Today is April 16th, YR13 Kingdom Forum / The End Of Days (my kingdom)Macalon (36:17) April 15th, YR13
Sir Graham turned as the Guard arrived, bearing the old man into the throne room. "Yes?" he asked distractedly.
"Sir Graham, I am in charge of the political doctrine in your province. You ordered the mocking of the fanatics, and the policy has been... successful. The doomsayers grow more prevalent and desperate, but for the most part our people think of them as fools to be pitied rather than listened to. Indeed, our utilization has recently risen from 84% to 99%. We are entering a period of Growth, and morale is good."
"Excellent. Go and get yourself something to drink and rest. I'll see you in the full Council Meeting tomorrow."
"Sire." The council elder bobbed his head respectfully and retired from the room.
A voice spoke out of the shadows. "You can't deny though that some people are still scared though. You can't completely rid the province of the whispers." The chief Thievery advisor was nearly invisible against the shadow cast by the late day sun.
"I know, but I'm sure I can rely upon you to prevent any... unpleasant incidents."
"Of course sire, our loyalty is without question. All the same, you cannot deny the strange events recently. Something may well be about to happen, and I for one prefer to be prepared."
Sir Graham smiled wryly over his goblet of mead. "I'm sure that you already know of my meetings with the High Wizards and my Mystical Advisors. I'm not going to reveal the contents of those meetings - I've got to leave some challenges for you. Still, be assured that I am informed, and am making adequate preparations."
The Thief's eyes flashed for a second as he smiled thin-lipped at his ruler. "I never doubted it your majesty. If you will allow, I will withdraw. I have jobs to attend to." and in a blink the Thief was gone.
One man remained in the room. Zamora wasn't the oldest Wizard, but he was the most powerful, and the most wise. His beard was only just going grey instead of the stereotypical silver, but his eyes were constantly moving and had a real shine of intelligence. He cast a small spell, and breathed a sigh of relief.
"Worried about eavesdroppers?" asked Sir Graham. "I can assure you he's gone. He's slipperly, but he's loyal to a fault."
"I may realise the need for the Thieves, sire, but I'll never like nor trust them. I dread to imagine what 'jobs' he's attending."
"I don't ask unless I have to. Still... does any of it matter? I mean really matter, anymore?"
A sweet, sad, stillness swept through the great throne room. "Indeed. It is a shame to see such loyalty and hope, when one knows it must come to nothing." said the Wizard.
"Still no deviation from the portents?"
"Sadly not my liege. On my way here tonight, I overheard our Generals telling our young soldiers during training that the only thing they had to fear was the sky falling on their heads. In a sense, that is ironically what is going to happen."
"You're certain of the course of events. The cessation of time - the ripping of souls and spirits from the bodies, leaving us like tailor's dummies, for view but nothing else."
"Indeed sir, but the signs show that the great shall be reborn into new life in another time and space. You will in all probability be a ruler again - I shall be a Wizard, one hopes, and all of our best shall return - farmers, poets, wizards, generals, and... theives. Of course, we may be in different bodies, different names and personalities but those at the top will survive in a way."
Sir Graham drank deeply from his goblet, and stood to refill it from the jug across the room. The sun was beginning to set. "It is well that we should be amongst our people at this time. The other rulers in the Kingdom know it - we have all been predicting it for nearly two years, yet we cannot stop it. We have been friends a long time, Zamora. It is fitting that we are together at the end. I still feel guilty about not telling the people. Obviously I could not - the riots and panic would turn the world into anarchy which would spread, but I have never liked hiding the truth. All the children who will never grow up. All the scholars who will never discover. All the soldiers who will never grow to skill. Such a waste."
The sun began to sink beneath the horizon. The King, Sir Graham looked into his goblet anew. He felt very slow all of a sudden. Zamora's voice seemed to come from a way off. "My lord, the world is harsh, and it is not our place to question... but in death always comes rebirth. I am glad to have served, and I look forward to doing so again."
Sir Graham sighed, and tried to drink from his goblet. Strangely, he was unable to move it to his lips. The drink seemed far away, strange flecks of light flowing down around his vision, as if he was looking at the scene through a long tunnel. The sun was setting, and somewhere, a lifetime away the church bells began to toll.
*This is it* he thought *The end of this world* Oddly he didn't feel filled with sorrow, but instead of anticipation. The tunnel grew longer until the goblet of mead and the great throne room were gone,
...and then...
- Sir Graham